words from the bathroom floor

i often wonder what we have in common. and im looking for a little advice. how are we supposed to know when to put away the candles? when the flame stops flickering, when the hot wax ruins the table cloth, or when you're good and ready to blow them out and call it a night? i would say the latter, but lately i've been noticing my candles to flicker out and die long before their time. im not sure what to make of it. but i am beginning to realize that i've wasted a lot of time and money. which is more than you can say, you blind soul. you just wouldnt think of it, you just wouldnt see it, you just wouldnt care. you just wouldnt. and thats you. but not me. im a money waster, but the problem is i dont realize i've bought a piece of crap until i've brought it home and thrown away the receipt.

looking glass

phoebe, we're not the same, but we think the same. its not contagious, but if you're willing to get the ball rolling, then im all in. its not the repeat. its not the uncontrollable vocal cords. its not the steps, the fingers, the squares or the knees. its the ticks. its the antics. its the thoughts, once you make up your mind then there's no turning back, you have to do it. i want to sit up on the old wooden cat walk with you, together we can look down upon the dull yellow lights and admire the green folding chairs.

listen to the teacher, do what you want. if that means jump, then just jump.

weedsss

it hasnt been my day, my week, my month, or even my year.

give give give= ____ ____ ____ ??? that doesn't make any sense at all.

toss your cookies

thats really gross.

you're tiny.

you're not.

i prefer you as a blonde.

i just cracked my ankles.

read me a story.

ten perfect little red squares.

watch me while i walk awayyyyy.

fold, paste, repeat.

ive got sparkles from head to toe.

let the rain sing you a lullaby at night.

what if i were?

i read that.

and i think you're too hard on yourself.

again and again til i get it right.

just one more time.

silver liquid drops.

i want to sit on the beach.

with you.

in the rain.

you know you make me wanna....!

barffff.

i broke a nail.

curve and turn and curve again. and it hits me like a ton of bricks. and suddenly the wheels are turning again, and it all makes sense. and absolutely no sense at all, of course.

the look in your eyes got me noticing. the way your head never sits exactly upright. the way you always seem to look disheveled, like you're running late. it made me remember that. and right then and there i made up my mind. i was okay with giving away sixteen. because honestly, what am i holding out for? what is waiting another sixteen or forty of three hundred. it doesnt matter. its just for me.

so adios sixteen. welcome to the rest of my life.

do you know something i dont?

CARMEX IS ADDICTING

dun dun DUNNN!

how can i describe this in a way that you can understand. its like i am watching the roses in my vase wilt. each day they get further and further from life. there is no way to recover them, no way to nurse them back to life, because i am never home to feed them. there are a few lone roses still standing tall, even with the murky brown water. they seem to have fused together, so no matter what i do now they're going to be alive forever, leaning on each other for the life they crave.

when it gets to the point that all i have a vase of dead roses in murky brown water, i understand that it must be time to run to the market and purchase some new roses. i'm supposed to get new roses when i leave the house. new roses would make the room bright again. new roses would change everything.

but the market is all out or roses. and i have no money, and i am one hundred percent completely out of time.

kick off the covers.

my sleeves are long. too long and black. not too thick not too thin. just perfect. one perfect thing, to keep me warm. one perfect thing to give this short arm a glimmer of hope. its contagious.

karen is nagging. she wants to know my schedule so she can help me. she knows all. i see her pudgy pale face on the back of the beige bathroom stall. and i refrain. sometimes.

but what i really want to ask is why. why are you still seven years old? have you forgotten to eat your weaties every morning? is your mother failing to give you all your fruits and vegetables? is that why you are unable to grow up big and strong, like superman? unable to climb the stairs alone? and um, excuse me, but i see you hiding behind those boxes little girl. im afraid to touch your skin, it might melt off or just CRACK into a million little pieces. i want to dip you in wax and preserve you and the grass colored room forever. even if it reeks of smoke and stale potato chips.

HEY! do you see the hot air balloon? the one soaring over this nineteen story prison cell! its coming for me, its going to take me to the moon. or maybe just somewhere else, somewhere far away. me and my balloon can stop by and pick you up if you want, the adventure will only last a few days, but i promise it will be one you'll never forget.

c'mon! hurry! lets go! please?!?! before i get cold again. before the silver cracks its whip. before the blue glass beads and red pearls form an indestructible piece of jewelry.

catch up from behind

im beginning to think. well, rather, im beginning to believe what ive been thinking all along.

and i was REALLY hoping that i would be wrong about you. but i wasnt, im not. i dont like knowing that there is more coming from one end than the other.

and this place makes me remember. it makes me smile, but it makes me really remember, remember things that i had chosen to forget about. certain sounds, those places, that smell, that face. it makes my eyelids flutter uncomfortably, as i hear my brain clench behind my ears. and it teleports me to another place and another time when i had a different reason.

its all very wishy washy at this point.

!!!!!!

its here. its bubbling over and spilling onto the floor. pouring out of my fingers and toes. they're wiggling and jiggling and doing a little dance. a little happy dance. a little excitement dance. a little dance thats been hiding in some dark chamber of my stomach for wayyyyyy too long.

and all i can say now is !!!!!!

{0}....well technically 0 in like 35 mintues....but no judgments here.

vier

three hundred and sixty five days ago. exactly. in the exact same place. watching the exact same people. feeling totally and completely different. it was the start of the shatter. when the crack in the windshield was just a crack, before it was little pieces of glass scattered all over the inside of your car.

you dont remember, im sure. but i remember. how that hot nervous heat took over my body when i read those words on the small black screen. i can feel it now. the pounding in my temples. the inability to focus. the people blurred from excessive water build up in my eyes. the words that kept me sitting on the curb, watching the people dance bye.

and i find it very ironic, that three hundred and sixty five days later, i gather something totally different, from someone totally different. these two separate existences that are so completely different that they are in face the same person all together. the constant battle is over, and no one has won.

but i must say that it put a smile on my face. the writing on the little black screen. there was no heat, no pounding, no inability. just hope. hope for you, hope for me. three hundred and sixty five days of distress. day in and day out, i remember every moment. every gesture.

but now there's hope. i think. i hope there's hope? maybe.

fifty years before you

mmm. yea. you know, im not so sure. i can honestly admit that i dont know. i think its false, but who am i to say? it all comes full circle. ive literally been on this marry-go-round ten thousand times, why am i still so surprised when the ride ends. and why do i continue to get so excited when it starts up again. its like im asking to get kicked in the bottom.

BUT i figured it out. i figure it out. i figured all the its out. i understand now. i see clearly and walk in a straight line. and the lights stay on until far past midnight. and the giggles are spontaneous.

but there's a leake in the sink. and it drip drops, and drop drips, and drippy drippy drops and drop drips. um. no thank you. message not sent.

one time there was a piano in the corner of the room. and i knew how to play the songs from church. and i sang alone. and there was hope in the air. and fate etched in the marble floor.

{6} WHATTT?!?!?

take it from me

the theme that tied it all together was their inability to decipher the difference between reality and illusion. they couldn't figure out what was real and what was fake. what had actually happened and what they had dreamed. what happened this morning and what happened ten years ago. that one woman looked in the mirror and imagined the naval officer. the poor old man spoke to himself without the understanding that there was no one else there. and that young man saw his father in the sky. i cant remember the fine line. its all a blur.

i want it to just happen. i just want it to suddenly hit me, and voilà. there it is, forever and ever. no assistance, no speaking, nothing. just voilà.

i do what i can

i dont like this, i dont like this one bit. i really do not like it at all. what i am seeing, makes me very unhappy. you should know better.

you see, its like this. theres a difference between what i say i want and what i actually want. but in reality, there really is no difference since i lie on both accounts, to you and to myself. i communicate from many different parts, i speak from my brain, i think from my mind and my heart, i act from the pit of my stomach, i lie from my face, to my face. i move for my knowledge, to know that i am still able-bodied.

many months ago i took a test, an online test, to see where i stood in the grand scheme of things. there were two questions to which i had answered no. and i was then labeled moderate and given some type of warning. but now both of those have shifted to yes. so where does that place me? is it official now, like can i give myself that label. instead of finding other excuses or creating alternate names.

things change. and i dont like it. and you should know this. and you should do something about it. or at least you shouldnt do that one thing that you know really just drives me insane. or maybe you continue to do it because you dont know. in fact, im sure you dont know. because i always lie to you. so how could you know? and how can i let myself get upset for something that you do to irritate me that you have no idea irritates me because i never tell you it irritates me, and that cycle irritates me...you understand?

golden brown mounds

if you keep the blinds shut, eventually it will be dark enough for you to fall asleep...

wallflower

so thats your excuse, thats how you are going to justify it. oh, okay.

i wish you could be an outsider watching this unfold. you're a thousand times worse than she is. and the saddest part is that you dont even realize it. you dont even have a clue.

{25}eeeee

my eyes burn

i hate it when people post song lyrics, but im going to do it anyway.

Too attuned
Too in step with the obvious
Too at ease and strange
So amused and I'm always jealous of you
People never change

Nothing but blue skies always on my mind
Blue skies on my mind
I promised your blue eyes
I'd never be unkind
There will always be
There will always be unkind people

Now and then
I'm wishing I never
Let you let me disappear
Take me off this stage
I don't get it at all over
While we're both still here

Nothing but blue skies always on my mind
Blue skies on my mind
I promised your blue eyes
I'd never be unkind
There will always be
There will always be unkind people

Stars on my left
Stars on my right
You and the moon
In the dead of night
Faith brings me back to the place I met you
I bet you miss me sometimes, sometimes

Nothing but blue skies always on my mind
Blue skies on my mind
I promised your blue eyes
I'd never be unkind
There will always be
There will always be unkind people

upside down

that was really nice. lets make it happen again. please?

you read me and i'll read you. its a good system.

that was completely out of no where. it would have happened a long time ago but i had forgotten how to spell your last name.

three faces. one failure. my fault completely.

you lie. and change. everyones telling me except you. face the facts.

the trees are getting naked. their golden brown leaves are sprinkled over the ground. i am in love with fall.

theres a hole. in the blanket. in your shirt (more than one), in the window, in her bucket, in the sky, in my mind, in the door.

dip the apples.

i want to wake up in this room.

are we there yet?

how am i going to do it. its gotta be something creative, very original. some way that when people read about it in the newspaper they will say to themselves, "how did she even come up with that". i want to make sure that my way is completely different from anyone else's. there are the basic ways, we see them in the movies all the time. but i could just put pebbles in my pockets. that was something new. or i could stick my head in the thing that makes warm smiles, that was an interesting one. i can have it two ways. but in the end, who really would even care?

homecoming parade

who are you? no seriously, who the fuck are you? dont laugh at me, dont defend yourself, dont try to hide your face. DO NOT LIE TO ME. just tell me the honest truth.

where is she? she is walking toward the door, and you're the one who told her to leave. so where did she go? what did you do to her? when is she coming back? tell me the truth you fucker. you dumb ass.

sorry for the harsh words. im just really frustrated. and i want my best friend back. so just tell me the truth, okay?

my room was sea foam green

as unnecessary as it is, its almost perfect. like a little shove, a nudge really, leading me into the right direction. or rather, making the wrong direction seem less and less appealing. all i really ever wanted to do was to be close, to be next to that seemingly miraculous being. for so long, i let the wheels in my head turn and turn and replay certain encounters to try to pick out things i said right or wrong. to try to figure out why you would go on trips to who knows where until who knows when. i always felt that i was somehow at fault, although i admirably attempted to convince myself otherwise. and those few rare moments when you were home, when things were exactly as i wanted them, when it was like that one february, i always had a sneaking suspicion creeping up my spine that the bliss was only temporary. the suspicion was always right.

right now i stand at the corner of fate and failure. fate is relatively clear. life will go on, with or without me. i will eventually put down the tools from the hardware store. i will leave behind peter pan's green hat. i will wrap my arms around something else, something more sturdy and less hypocritical. and it will be okay.

as i am aware of each crinkle under my feet, i will never forget that failure. the constant ache of the rock that is sitting in the pit of my stomach. the wad of gum lodged in the back of my throat making it near impossible for me to ever take a complete deep breath. the visual reminders of those beautiful helpful little nick-nacks.

and i like the wooden beads. they are thick and sturdy and opaque. they stretch far more than the ribbons or lace. i like how sweet they smell when they are damp. but thats besides the fact, im still wearing my heart on my sleeve. see it. smell it. listen to it. ask about it. care about it. want it. love it.

love it. i love it. i always have and i always will.

{33} remember. because i wont remind you. this is like a test, you will likely fail.

put your hands up

blah. like word vomit. like words filtering from my brain to my fingers. its all on there. all of it. every last little detail. everything that is unknown. EVERYTHING.

and you cant see it. haha.

lady peaceful

promise not to say anything. promise to pretend. promise to not be mad. promise to not be disappointed. promise to not advise. promise to stay silent.

here's a secret: we're all fucked up.

life is waiting to carry you home

ive seen this 180 before. ive seen it many times before. its still shocking. and i must say, how rude. [of you.]

{40!}

i did it

eyes wide shut

i smell everything. it smells like something dead. as soon as that familiar buzz flings itself into my ear, my eyes go dark. i feel that salty burn that always ends in disappointment. darkness wraps its big brown arms around me, covering my eyes and mouth with its fat sweaty hands. pulling me backwards into an unfriendly cold alley, the darkness snickers at his success. every bone in my body is tense, im freezing down to my core. but i dont fight it. thats the sad thing, i never fight him. i dont squirm and struggle. i dont whip out my pepper spray and get him right in they eyes. i dont because i dont know how do you solve a problem that doesnt even exist?

suite 925

shhh. its a big bad secret. but i have to tell someone. but who? you? nope you dont exist. hmmm. how about you....nah, you'd be upset. um. let me think...you. nope definitely not, been there, done that. i guess this one will just stay between you and me, dear diary. you're the perfect friend for me.

mmmm.

{41}

yellow. purple. red. black hole.

its dark and cold. on the inside and the outside. no matter how many lights i turn on, i can never manage to make it bright enough. that worries me. i drape a necklace of dull red jewels around my neck. it drips down my chest, and shines brightly against my soft black shirt.

clap clap outa here

hello little stranger. take a bite of my mind and watch me as i get smaller and smaller until i finally fade into a thing of the past. like a distant, 'oh yeah i remember...', memory. its going to happen, happen sometime, maybe this time i'll win.

ha. nope. win. i never do that. never ever ever. bite me.

count them, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, on and on and on and on.....all big cherrios looking right into my eyes.

{43}

who needs the words

i stepped in a puddle today. a big deep puddle filled with murky brown shit. i typically would have avoided it, for fear of getting wet. but today i stomped in the puddle. and watched as the dirty water quickly slipped off my rubber boots. each bit of water slid down my leg back on to the wet pavement where it belonged. is it bad that i see tears in every drop of liquid i see. it looks like everything around me is crying, even the sky.

why are all these objects so sad? is it because they are waiting to wake up? wondering when the dream is going to be over.

days drag on. few words barely exchanged as the weeks pass on. they've gotten less frequent, less spontaneous, and definitely not expected anymore. is it because everything appears appropriate and normal? things arent always as they appear. later is never. i've learned. time and time again, things arent always as they appear. yet if one keeps setting them self up for a trail of disappointment and betrayal they're bound to fall and crumble someday.

dont take yourself for a know it all, because you dont know anything. nothing about me nothing about this nothing about anything. again, later is never. im a stranger.

{46}

little houses on the hillside

hmmm. really? typical. im so not surprised. why look for a waterfall, when you have a bird pond right in your very own backyard. sure its growing algae, but hey the birds still like it, right.

dont dont dont. do. do. do. dont dont dont. ehh. what did i do now?

goose eggs. yes. big fat ones. look high and low. you'll see it.

rusty old metal

no you dont. NO YOU DONT!

dont pretend. you just look foolish. dont wait. it makes you seem careless. dont smile. that makes my stomach turn.

she looks but doesnt see. she listens but doesnt hear. she views but never reciprocates. she hides but never seeks. shes clever but silly (not a good silly, a stupid silly). shes lengthy, but not deep. shes short, but filled with sand bags.

i have to turn those songs off.

i want it to be christmas time. thats a really happy time. a really happy time.

p.s. ten days. all big fat 0's....SUCCESS! you'll never know it. ha ha ha.

wake me

holy shit. shake it off.

shake it offfff.

the greatest

Oh and I don't exist

I don't exist…

And now that we got that straight, doesn't mean that i can fly

Doesn't mean that i can go do whatever i want

Now that we got that clear, and you know that i'm not here

Doesn't mean that i can go do whatever i please

And i was sure someone next door was blowing up balloons

And they were red and orange

And there was this one lady at the bar and she was trying to buy gin

And this other lady at the bar and she was trying to sell gin

And it worked out good for the boths of them

I say, no--you're gonna drown

And he says, no--i can't drown

Simply because

Shhhh...

In any other way but frying,

Lucky that I'm dying

By hanging and not drowning.

So now that we got that straight

Can't I just be left alone?

I want to take a fuckin' bath

city wide

off my chest and out the door. bubbles are still blowing.

a gust of wind disrupts the pleasant hum of bliss. and popcorn is popping on the side of the road, making it seem saltier that it really is. how misleading. observe the deep ridges in her fingernails, her vitamin intake must be insufficient. she just eats cheese and toast.

there is a mole to the left of your nose, and your eyes are wide. your cheek is pressed tightly against something you once loved. i see it every day, reassuring me that there is some hope for a connection. as the deep purple and white floral display drips down her neck, she squints her eyes, shutting out the madness that she has created for herself.

long cascading curls pile on my head. they're from a time when smiles were in fashion. certain sounds ring in my ear. do do do do do do do da do. sometimes i would squint my eyes so tight i was almost blind. all i could see was the red break lights ahead of me and the

white headlights to my left. the mind hoping i wouldn't crash, the heart was not caring at all, hoping for a little excitement. those sounds gently swaying in the stuffy air. familiar songs and sweet melodies.

shake it off. unzip your skin and re-arrange your insides. its possible.

do something about it.

weeeee

i have good ideas

nah

i kind of half expected the world to stop and wait for me. then it didn't. and i was thoroughly disappointed.

for its one, two, three strikes you're out...

the end is near. i can feel it.

so close

they are tears, not from my eyes.

you lied. its okay. but just know that i know. and that it made me kind of sad.

i need to start taking my own advice.

be careful not to overspend

whats new blue?

secondary education is quite gauche. (thats a new word i picked up at this completely ungauche facility)

write that shit down. this instant.

oh, 7th grade books now feature films...you intrigue me.

did you know that some guy named vincenzo was almost successful in stealing the mona lisa from the lourve?

notes from today's lecture: "scarring=writing (ie: something meaningful, permanent)" appropriate? i think yes.

i might actually join a sorority....dont judge me.

no buffalo. sad face with one tear.

you're expecting me to sketch. doubtful. but i'll try.

i want to go to oakland.

required reading: dude you're a fag; masculinity & sexuality in high school by c.j. pascoe.

no returns if opened.

uni jetstream 1.0.

do you understand?

home is where the heart is, true fact.

it hurts me to hear those songs.

pass out in front of the giant dinosaur at the mini golf place.

rambler room, feed me.

"from your average bert and ernie to nobility."

strenuous reading.

over fifteen full length plays in eight weeks, suck it carol j.

are we there yet?

of course im counting down, 91 days

dont hesitate. im hypocritical, but im talking to you and telling you not to hesitate.

they are so long, freshly buffed and painted bright red.

gigglers, shut the fuck up.

missing the woo hoo.

the wait is too long, take the stairs. fifteen floors.

hurry, grab a bike and go.

the lake is beautiful.

unofficial countdown til the red pearls. waiting for the cold, and the sleeves. you should get this by now.

love. love. love.

im too distracted to think about that. but its always here, i brought it and its close by. its a safety net. its comforting.

but i haven't thought about it...yet.

oh. that was a close one. it almost happened.

those few hours

should i be worried? because i am.

"my father, a closet astronomer, has tried to explain black holes to me, how they are so heavy they absorb everything, even light, right into the center. moments like this are the same kind of vacuum; no matter what you cling to, you wind up being sucked in."

that was not meant for your eyes. and yet you went ahead and did what you do best. you suck.

Remember that one day. It was after the good times but before the really bad times. The ceiling was white the walls were green and the pillows were pink. But you wanted to move. You always want to move. It’s irritating. Because I cant follow you, you move too fast. If you looked really close you would see the unthinkable. I did the unthinkable. Not it, that thing, not that unthinkable, but a different one. One that four and a half months ago would have been almost as worse. But right now it feels more right than ever. And I’m glad that you aren’t watching too closely, because for the first time in a long time I’m thinking about something that doesn’t concern you. So go on, keep moving.  I’m getting closer to happy without your help.

fifty two days and im gone. so can we be done with this? please?

...on my pillow

if i made the executive decision to be mad instead of sad, then why can't i stop crying?

wine and cheap perfume

Lets recap on the most mind boggling day I have ever had, ever.

 

1.     Wake up late
2.     government paper refuses to print…meaning I could potentially fail the class and not graduate
3.     lie to the nurse and tell her that I am eighteen so that I can get an off grounds pass for senior ditch day….i am only 17 and ¾
4.     go to breakfast with people I hate and see the tallest woman I have ever seen
5.     to home to clean my room, but I end up watching the bachelorette and eating Swedish fish
6.     find out that the ritzy  hair salon I am getting my prom hair done at is going to charge me 100 fucking dollars…and Audrey isn’t paying.
7.     Go back to school to work on the last thing I will ever do for the drama department.
8.     Get my nails done at some new hip place with the lamest name ever. I see some girl who I was best friends with freshman year, she acts like she has no idea who I am, nice.
9.     Go home to try to clean some more. Watch some more bachelorette.
10. Decide to try on my prom shoes and walk around in them
11. Stumble upon my mom listening to a voice mail from my English teacher
12. Note to self: never make photocopies of class notes and lend them to a “friend” to copy…because that friend could just turn in your notes in our eight hundred point notebook saying they are hers which ends up in YOU receiving an ethics violation on your personal record, and a failure notice from one of your only two required classes to graduate.
13. FREAK THE FUCK OUT. Because now I might not graduate and I also might not go to college because I have a cheating penalty on my record. sweet. just what i wanted.
14. Get yelled at and grounded by Audrey…never fun.
15. Pam Jennings calls me back and tells me that I should come to school right now (6:00 pm) to discuss this situation.

16. I go. I cry. I apologize. I cry. I cry. I explain. I cry….and I RARELY cry. Fuck.  She tells me that I will prob just get a C or a D and have to do Saturday school, but I MIGHT still be able to graduate.
17. I go home and report to Audrey.  She guilt trips me and tells me how my actions have led her to feel like a failure as a parent. She brings up a sore subject and cries. I begrudgingly hug her.
18. Ten minutes later she tells me that bath and body works is hiring and I need to get dressed and do my makeup and go apply. So I do.  
19. I come home to find her and four of her friends getting drunk by the fireplace. She invites me to join.
20.  I join and they give me martinis.
21. I forget that I have job training tomorrow for fucking beach camp.
22. I write this.

 

Welcome to my life.

Fun stuff.

the moon's premonition.

Sugar coating this wouldn’t make it better. 

You make me feel guilty. You make me feel guilty for caring, for feeling, for thinking. You make me feel guilty for trying, and apparently failing, to fulfill your expectations. But I don’t understand your expectations; I don’t understand your reasoning. I don’t understand the words that don’t come out of your mouth. I don’t understand the choices you make or the actions you take. 

 

I can hear you, even when you think I cant and your words burn.  I had made it my duty to comprehend the vastness that is you, but I can’t unravel it.  And I am exhausted, this quest has consumed me for far too long and I am worn out.  I don’t need to rest, I don’t want to stop, but I am attempting to remove myself anyway, because I know its what you want.

 

Can you blame me for trying?  I guess sometimes the broken is truly unfixable, which is sad.  And it makes me hate myself for wasting so much time, effort and thought.  My apologies.  I’m done now.

for nothing

two weeks gone to waste.

damn it.

how pathetic.

What do you want?

a simple observation

My hands look so small right now. I see them and I try to fathom them, short nails, untamed cuticles, two gold diamond rings. My fingers, which typically appear pudgy due to many years of knuckle cracking, seem slim, frail and weak.  Somehow there is a faded heart drawn in pen, on my left hand.  How it got there, I am unaware.  I stare at them, busy at work. They glide over the white and grey letters, making something. Creating something useless. Something pointless. They bend. They hurt, they ache right now. They are wrinkly like my grandma’s used to be, they are tired.  Six freckles, so small, hardly detectible. My hands are a mystery. How can they do the things they do. How do they express everything and nothing.  They are just hands.  But I have somehow suddenly realized that hands, my hands, your hands, are capable of far more than we ever thought possible.  Hands hold others, make them feel safe and comfortable, wanted and loved. Hands hurt others, they shoot the gun, cut the skin, stab you in the back. Hands are beautiful, they are disgusting. They hide things in their plams, keep secrets, keep me warm. Mine are soft.  Blonde thin hairs, barely visible.  Palms fleshy, cold and clammy. Each crease like a scar, forever there, never to leave. I see veins, blue and purple. I squeeze my palms shut, digging my the tips of my nails into my skin. It might hurt, but I don’t feel it anymore. I want to see the crescent shape my nails make in the palm of my hand. The little half moons that only remain for a few minutes, reminding me of my presence. Then they fade, forever gone.

 

I need a more permanent reminder.

asking nicely.

84 Days

when did the love turn to fear? i am so afraid of you. your presence scares me. you leave me anxious and worried all the time. i know you are judging, and your thoughts terrify me. so i hide, and i speak no more. 

Suburban.

And there sits the white picket fence, in its box in the corner of that green room. Its ready to be assembled, its waiting for me. It’s trying to tempt me with the picture on the box, saying all this could be yours. The picture is of a house, a large blue house, with an inviting red door and shutters on all the windows, and the same sprawling white picket fence. It’s a beautiful house, a happy house, a house with no troubles or worries. The family who lives there loves each other.  They are playing with their dog in the grassy front yard. They smile. Real genuine happy smiles. They are content.  This fence is keeping them together. It keeps them safe. It keeps the dog from running away. It keeps unwanted intruders out. It keeps them delighted and blissful.

 

From the outside my house looks similar to the house on the box, it looks like all the other houses in this average suburban town.  It’s large and its blue with an inviting red door, and shutters on the windows and a grassy front lawn. But on the inside it’s run down, pathetic, exhausted and scared.  There is no dog, no family. It’s not a happy house.

 

But the white picket fence has the ability to hide the forlorn character hiding within the walls. No one would know that the inside has no furniture, no light bulbs in the lamps, and no paintings on the walls. That it has an inch of dust covering the dark wooden floors, making it difficult to breath. No one would know about the green room.  They would walk their dogs and children past my house, touch my fence and find it safe to assume that my house is a happy house. 

 

I assembled the fence years ago and it’s too late to take it down.  Without the white picket fence my house would display sadness, and ruin the entire aura of the neighborhood. 

 

So the fence stays.

Conclude.

I blame the stopping and starting on you.

Your excuses are implausible.

I'm not going to try again.

i wanna see your face.

WHAT THE HELL?

so you know when you are a little kid and you are like "oh i wanna be a doctor, teacher, singer, ect. when i grow up"?

it kind of just hit me. this is "when i grow up". when i grow up is right effing now.  when the hell did that happen? oh my god. oh my god. im like freaking out now. 

i know that this sounds so dumb and cliche and all that shit, but i dont care. no ones going to read this shit anyway.

i remember last year at this time when all the seniors were leaving and me leaving seemed SO far away. but its like now. in 15 days i am going to be done with high school, forever. its so bittersweet. but quite honestly its much more bitter than sweet. 

im not trying to be a downer. 

I KNOW that i am going to love college

I KNOW that i am going to be fine

I KNOW that i am going to have "the time of my life"

I KNOW that i am going to make plenty of new friends

I KNOW that it is time to move on from high school and begin the "rest of my life"

I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW!

but i am not ready for this. 

I AM NOT OKAY with packing up my shit and moving across the country

I AM NOT OKAY with the fact that in 15 days the drama room will be a place to visit, it will no longer be my home

I AM NOT OKAY with leaving my people. the ones who know me inside and out.

I AM NOT OKAY with the fact that your friendships are going to continue to grow while i am away. 

I AM NOT OKAY with the fact that when i come back its going to be like for a visit. not forever.

I AM NOT OKAY with only being able to talk to you on the phone and via text and facebook. no matter what anyone says NOTHING compares to talking face to face. and hugging.

I AM NOT OKAY rooming with someone who doesnt know me, who doesnt know what i deal with in my mind on a daily basis.

I AM NOT OKAY with the fact that my little brother is going to be taking ownership of my car. he has no idea how sentimental that car is. the conversations, the arguments, the talks, the songs, the tears, the laughs, the bonds, the advice, the confessions. my car is my place. my safe place. 

I AM NOT OKAY with the fact that when i freak out no one will be able to comfort me, to calm me down, to tell me to get out of bed when i've been lying around all day.

I AM NOT OKAY that no one will tell me to stop, force me to stop, when i start again.

I AM NOT OKAY WITH ANY OF THIS.

and that is why i am scared and why i keep saying i dont want to go. i am so scared, more scared than i have ever been in my entire life. i have always know and appreciated how good i have it here. i am constantly surrounded by the best people. although we all have out flaws, and each friendship has its ups and downs, i have the strongest support system. and in a matter of months i'll have no one. and i dont want to start over. i dont want to start from scratch. i dont want to try to make new someone understand me when there is already someone who understands me better than anyone else.

Fuck. i am not okay with this. i have so little time left. and then its all over. and then i have to sit at my computer many miles away and watch as your lives go on without me. i am not okay with it. i know i have to be, but hey, this is a blog, so i can say whatever the fuck i want.

I DO NOT WANT TO LEAVE. I DO NOT WANT TO BE SO FAR AWAY. I DO NOT WANT TO HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL THANKSGIVING TO SEE YOU AGAIN. 

I WANT TO HUG YOU EVERY DAY. I WANT TO TALK TO YOU EVERY DAY. I WANT TO TELL YOU EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME. I WANT YOU TO TELL ME EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME. I WANNA SEE YOUR FACE!!! AND "YOU" ARE NOT JUST ONE PERSON. YOU ARE A FEW OF SPECIAL PEOPLE. YOU SHOULD EACH KNOW WHO YOU ARE.